


this is where (we all) came from

by Archistratego, Cosmik debris (Moggio)



Series: records of war [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Emotional Constipation, First Time, M/M, PWP, What Have I Done, big on consent, i desperately crave all the AUs, i was going to say this had a plot but lbr, i'm a chronic undertagger sorry, nsfw conan au but with thrawn, that's what cosmik debris named it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 02:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archistratego/pseuds/Archistratego, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moggio/pseuds/Cosmik%20debris
Summary: It's a question of belonging, of finding a place, of building relationships - all things that don't come easy to Mitth'raw'nuruodo. They do, however, come easy to Eli even if he has zero interest in them. He especially wants nothing to do with Thrawn and his nonsense.Unfortunately, by law Mitth'raw'nuruodo owns him.Or... the AU no one wanted but happened anyway.





	this is where (we all) came from

**Author's Note:**

> It's all [Cosmik debris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moggio/pseuds/Cosmik%20debris)'s fault, so make sure to drop by her [tumblr](http://yalakid.tumblr.com/) and reblog the [awesome art](http://yalaki.tumblr.com/post/178065839477/i-blame-archistratego-in-turn-for-writing-au) she did.

Mitth’raw’nuruodo pressed his fingers against the warm metal handcuffs encasing Eli’s wrists. Beneath the cheap iron are a set of polished bracelets made of silver without any engravings or carvings that would set Eli apart from others who wear them. Slaves do not wear the names of the houses who own them, just the colours: Eli had been gifted to Thrawn in white and then given a deep burgundy sash to denote his affiliation. Like the rest of the humans who were brought into this particular household.

But to Thrawn, Eli was nothing like the other slaves that served the Chiss. One day, he wanted to gift Eli with expensive armbands that were engraved with the symbols of House Mitth — inappropriate but Mitth’raw’nuruodo had never cared much about propriety.

And the appeal was that Eli fought him every step of the way.

From the moment he was gifted to Mitth’raw’nuruodo Eli had rebelled, performing his tasks through gritted teeth, and swirling anxiety — always one step away from insubordination. Mitth’raw’nuruodo would’ve had him dismissed were it not for how aesthetically pleasing Eli was and the fact that on one occasion Eli had the chance to betray Thrawn by mistranslating, and Eli had chosen not to do so.

Loyalty was something Mitth’raw’nuruodo could understand, and paired with Eli’s intelligence (Thrawn refuses to dwell too much on how fascinating he found the shade of Eli’s skin, the way his eyes looked beneath the morning light when he’s waking up—) it made him an invaluable addition to Thrawn’s daily routine and work.

And while Eli chose escape over stabbing his masters in order to gain his freedom, Thrawn wondered how much these escape attempts were becoming a game between them: hunter and prey. Eli’s attempts got progressively more predictable.

Regardless, Thrawn found himself looking forward to what followed these, reflecting that were it not for them, Eli would have remained _just_ a slave.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time it had been a gamble, both of them sprawled out on the grass beneath the stars after having thwarted Eli’s third escape attempt, and Thrawn had no desire to seduce someone unwilling but he found Eli hard and wanting beneath his hands. Greedily swallowed moans as Eli jerked his hips impatiently until Thrawn took him in his hand and stroked him. Eli had closed his eyes and leaned his head back in relief, as if this was all he had fantasised about.

Thrawn had read him right.

“More, please.” Eli’s voice was desperate, already stretched thin by this simple touch. His fingers grasped Thrawn’s shoulders, short nails digging into flesh, and Thrawn had no doubts about the lack of experience: the warring want with the uncertainty of wading through this new territory. Of needing but not knowing _how_ to quell it.

Eli seemed paralysed by the way Thrawn stroked at an even pace, marvelling at the sensation and trying not to spill right there and then. It was better than he had imagined it would be, Thrawn’s fingers providing a small reprieve from the overwhelming desire. Eli didn’t even have half a mind to return the touch.

This would be a learning exercise for them both: Eli taking his first steps while Thrawn learnt about this side of Eli. How he looked lean and bright eyed; desperate and independent and so very much _his_.

Thrawn cinched his fingers and changed the pace, feeling Eli’s stuttered heartbeat press against his ribs, and Thrawn’s pulse matched it, cock hardening despite being ignored in favour of Eli’s — feeling the unfamiliar flesh, the way Eli keened when Thrawn rubbed his thumb over the head; every single reaction Thrawn catalogued to revisit later.

And Eli might be dazzled but he was learning to navigate through the want and respond — lifting his mouth to crash against Thrawn’s. He doesn’t know what he is doing but he followed instinct, tongue sliding in without finesse, just knowing he wanted to get as close as possible. With that intoxicating eagerness, Eli met him as an equal, lips demanding and yielding as Thrawn showed him how.

Eli found it difficult to breathe. Thrawn parted his clothing leaving Eli bare, and the vulnerability of that state made tension rise in Eli, his flushed skin exposed as he spilt into Thrawn’s hand unexpectedly. He hadn’t meant for it to end so soon but everything had been too much and lying under Thrawn, exposed in all ways possible made Eli unable to control himself.

He wanted to have this forever.

Damp and exhausted, Eli curled against Thrawn; it took him a moment or two to compose himself enough and slip one hand beneath Thrawn’s clothing, searching with enthusiasm despite his inexperience. However, Thrawn knew what he wanted and Eli’s fingers around him would undoubtedly feel good but wouldn’t satisfy.

Feeling his knees protest as he shifted, Thrawn grabbed Eli’s hand and felt him pull back, confusion written across his face. Thrawn felt Eli’s free hand trace the blue patterns around his cheekbones, beneath his jaw. “But you haven’t— ”

“Not yet.” Silencing Eli with a messy kiss, Thrawn waited until he felt Eli go boneless and content beneath. Until he made soft sounds that sounded like a plea for more. Thrawn paid special attention to each of the changes: the kisses that made Eli press closer, the touches that caused his breath to stutter, how being undressed beneath Thrawn caused warmth to fill Eli’s body from top to bottom, radiating.

The expanse of smooth skin beneath his palms caused Thrawn alarm— never had he felt this level of fascination with a partner. He was familiar with bodies proudly bearing battle scars, the blue paint smeared over his fingers, but Eli had no status as a warrior — no right to wear blue. And yet, despite Thrawn’s feigned indifference, Eli had been one of the few who always surprised him. Here, beneath the expanse of stars, there was no pretence as he memorised the expression on Eli’s face, how bright his eyes looked reflecting the glow of Thrawn’s red.

Sitting up Thrawn’s thumb traced Eli’s side adjusting their positions. Eli’s thighs hitched over Thrawn’s knees to raise his hip made for a beautiful sight, a shame that he lacked a warrior’s marks. Tracing such patterns on a partner was considered an act of intimacy and trust, the signs of a bond.

The stare made Eli fidget, throat bobbing nervously until a reassuring finger stroked his hip bone in slow circles. “You are under no duress here. I will not order you to continue if you wish to stop.” Thrawn said.

“Does it look like I want you to stop?” Eli bit out, muscles visibly tense, and so much want radiated from him that Thrawn forgot to take a breath.

They were not individuals prone to voicing sentimentalities, though Thrawn recognised the emotion painted across Eli’s face for what it was: open trust and fondness and perhaps more. _More_ that Thrawn had no wish to delve into — after all, at the end of the day when all was said and done, Eli was still a slave. A clever, beautiful creature but a slave.

Despite Eli’s impatient urgings, Thrawn was careful not to rush: his fingers traced patterns waiting to feel Eli sufficiently relaxed, his self-consciousness, and nerves lost beneath kisses and touches. Then some more, until Eli’s soft sounds became breathless panting and his back arched, seeking relief.

Slowly, carefully Thrawn breached him with one finger, Eli’s body going rigid at the unusual sensation. He pressed deeper, felt Eli’s body adjust as Thrawn took his time to explore. Patient as one finger became two— rushing the experience would be unsatisfactory for him and painful for Eli.

Thrawn’s cock ached for attention but all of his focus was for Eli, working him open at a steady pace. Eli who was writhing and biting his lips as Thrawn prepared him. Eli who was growing increasingly incoherent, whispering words in Lysatran and wrapping one leg around Thrawn’s waist to urge him on.

And still Thrawn took his time, waited for Eli to be sleek and wet, desperate enough to lift his head and glare, “Come on, Thrawn _come on_.”

Thrawn felt his mouth twitch in amusement; this was why Eli was unique— the spark beneath the deceptively obedient facade. A fire that Thrawn very much wanted to possess.

The first thrust had Eli tensing all over again, his spine rigid and mouth parted, tempting enough for Thrawn to seal their mouths together as he sought to find a rhythm for their bodies. With Eli impatiently arching his back, and wrapping his legs around Thrawn’s waist, it took patience to understand the unspoken cues. If it were anyone else Thrawn would have been annoyed.

Instead, Eli’s fingers pulling his hair caused Thrawn to hiss, low and reptilian before nipping harder at the skin beneath Eli’s jaw. “Mine.” Possessive as only Thrawn could get; Eli hummed in agreement, finally easing into the rhythm.

Thrawn moved slow and deep, Eli growing hard once again as the pace increased, hot and heavy — mouth against mouth, the soft fabric of Thrawn’s outfit against Eli’s bare skin. It didn’t take anything but the slightest touch and Eli was coming a second time between them, toes curling and Thrawn’s name on his lips.

The column of Eli’s throat beneath the dim light, the bright glow visible only to those who could see in infrared, and Thrawn’s name uttered with such unflinching sincerity and affection — that was enough to tip Thrawn over, body tense as he came, face pressed against Eli’s collar, their bodies warm and heavy and clinging.

Thrawn was careful not to dump his entire weight on Eli, but he didn’t feel like moving. He wanted to stay right there, joined with Eli, their limbs entangled and heartbeats synchronised.

Eli stroked his back, tilting his head down slightly so he could look at Thrawn. “I still don’t accept that you own me.”

Thrawn didn’t bother arguing, he recognised Eli’s words for what they were: a defence line, a way of shielding himself from realisations he wasn’t ready to face. There were some Thrawn wasn’t ready to face either. His answer to Eli was to press their foreheads together briefly, a gesture of affection between the Chiss.

Silence settled around them, and Eli dozed off against Thrawn until somewhere in the early hours of the morning, when Thrawn had picked him up and headed inside.

 

* * *

 

 

Letting go of Eli had become impossible after that, a fact which Thrawn felt was reciprocated: Eli stopped fighting as much, and even took initiative in several aspects of his work — something that pleased Thrawn immensely. Eli had the potential to be exceptional, while at the same time being his own self-saboteur, plagued by doubts and rage.

Tonight, Eli had made another feeble attempt at escape, but he had been by Thrawn’s side for years, and almost as long in his bed. He grasped Eli’s chin and forced him to look up, both of them caked in the mud from Eli’s earlier escape attempt, and Mitth’raw’nuruodo leaned down for a kiss. Eli was quick to react, trapped Thrawn’s lower lip between his teeth and nipped; not hard enough to bleed but sufficient to draw a moan out of Thrawn.

Eli enjoyed the control aspect of these encounters but Thrawn had never been cruel or inflicted scars. At times his mouth or fingertips might leave bruises — possessive, light bruises along Eli’s inner thighs, where the skin was soft — but those were not the marks of someone who felt aroused causing bone deep pain. He distinctly recalled Eli’s cries of pleasure the first time Thrawn had left rings of purple that faded within a few days, replayed them in his mind when he had to leave Eli behind.

And his brother said _Mitth’raw’nuruodo_ was too obsessed with this slave. Thrawn didn’t know how to explain to Mitth’ras’safis how precious this slave was, that he occupied a station in his household above all others. That he’d started as a curiosity that ensnared Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and now Eli was his work of art, the marks of Thrawn’s ownership going deeper than the worn silver wristbands.

Within the Mitth household Eli never wore chains nor was he locked in at night; he shared Thrawn’s quarters. His position was not one filled with trite luxuries. Thrawn had discovered early on that trinkets and expensive gifts were not the way to earn Eli’s affections — even now, Thrawn had doubts on whether he really had them or if it’s just psychology: clinging to his captor, knowing that he was the final barrier between safety, and the unending chaos of their warring world.

Still, Thrawn understood that Eli took great pride in his work as _Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s_ attendant and translator — he had said so to Mitth’ras’safis when he thought Thrawn wouldn’t hear.

That was as close to a confession of affection as it got between them. Thrawn pretended to sleep when Eli whispered endearments in Lysatran; Eli pretended to sleep when Thrawn traced lines across his skin, lines that normally would be delineated in blue.

“I thought we were past these escape attempts.” Thrawn said, words ghosting over Eli’s mouth causing him to lean closer and seek a kiss. Instead, Thrawn cradled Eli’s face in his hands, thumbs pressing down.

“I think if I stopped trying I’d go mad.” Eli replied, expression wry. Being too smart, once limits were tested it was only natural to push further, and Eli would never settle for ordinary now that he had this. Whatever _this_ was.

Thrawn gave a hum, his eyes traced a path from silver bracelets to Eli’s shoulders, the curve of his jaw, his mouth — all those minute details. Eli watched Thrawn’s sharp smile with fondness.

“I will gift you my name.” Thrawn lifted Eli’s wrist and placed a reverent kiss between metal and skin, “Then, even if you run away you will still belong to me.”

Eli laughed, quiet and breathless, “Where would I go? I am happy at your side.”

**Author's Note:**

>  
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> art by [Cosmik debris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moggio/pseuds/Cosmik%20debris)


End file.
